


Parallel

by knightedlioness



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightedlioness/pseuds/knightedlioness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times their lives crossed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallel

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, 
> 
> Wow. So this fandom has literally taken over my life. I didn't study for finals last year because I spent my whole reading week, well, reading, and now I'm studying abroad in Japan and still haven't been able to stop myself from pulling all nighters to obsessively go through every single Mark/Wardo fill on the tsn kink meme. So it's little wonder that I've actually ended up writing a fic for the first time in about 7 years. I'm a little bit afraid to hear from you all about whether I can actually write when I'm not some crazy middle schooler sitting in my room Mary Sue-ing my way through Tamora Pierce fanfiction. But constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, and no matter what the feedback is like, it felt GOOD to write something again.
> 
> Thanks for stopping by!!

1\. 

The first time they sleep together is such a cliché. They both drink too much at some random frat party (some couples claim they remember everything about their first times--songs, restaurants, what the other person wore--but years from now neither of them will have any idea where they started because it feels like they were always this way) and Mark stumbles back to Kirkland, Eduardo following (Eduardo always follows Mark) and they tumble unsteadily onto Mark’s bed. 

Wardo huffs a laugh into Mark’s neck when their limbs get all tangled up. Mark turns his head to look at Eduardo, buzzed and warm when he takes in mussed hair and a wide smile and lips stained red by spiked punch. 

“Hey,” he says, stupidly. Eduardo grins.

“Hey.”

Mark kind of wants to say something here about how twenty years from now (because of course they’ll be best friends twenty years from now) they’ll be reminiscing about these good ol’ drunken college times or something. But beer pong has never been his game and there were several rounds, so what comes out is--

“We should have sex.”

Eduardo’s eyes widen and he laughs--kind of disbelieving--but Mark just waits and doesn’t take it back. He kind of wants to because, wow, embarrassing, but also true, and Mark is always in favor of just saying what he thinks. And Wardo’s always been one of the few who gets that, so hopefully this will work out as well as everything else in their friendship has.

Wardo licks his lips and his eyes flicker down to Mark’s mouth.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“Good,” Mark says, and then falters because he doesn’t quite know what to do now that the agenda has been established.

But Wardo is socially skilled enough for the both of them, and leans in to flick his tongue over Mark’s lips, making Mark’s breath stutter and something warm coil in his stomach.

They kiss for a while, and Mark is glad to find that he didn’t drink too much after all, because he is definitely getting hard and he can feel that Wardo is too because Wardo’s still lying half on top of him from when they fell on the bed. Mark decides this is a good time for redemption after being at a loss earlier, and takes the initiative, sneaking a hand down to undo Wardo’s pants and run a hand over Wardo’s crotch.

A groan, and yea, they both like that. Things start to pick up pace, and a distant part of Mark marvels at how it seems like centuries and seconds since they got back to Kirkland, and now Wardo’s fingers are slick and cool, sliding into him and making him shiver and twitch.

Not too much later (an age later), Wardo replaces his fingers with something blunt, bigger and better and a little overwhelming, and he’s making shushing noises at Mark in between kisses on Mark’s collarbone and gentle strokes through Mark’s hair with his clean hand.

And then Wardo is moving, smooth and easy, and Mark’s hips are twitching forward to meet him and they are both gasping and Mark maybe kind of laughs just because right now there is nothing he’d rather be doing more than Wardo. And then white spots and rushing sounds and yea, that’s why the French think this is what death is like.

Mark doesn’t really do cuddling, but afterwards, lying side by side in bed, he lays his own palm perpendicular across Wardo’s upturned one, his fingertips touching the sheets on the other side of Wardo’s hand. He watches his lifeline come down to intersect Wardo’s and he thinks about how his legs were wrapped around his best friend, heels digging into Wardo’s back, urging him closer. He thinks, _I wish I could wrap my life around his._

 

2\. 

“Let’s go out and get drunk,” Dustin says one night. Chris rolls his eyes, but he closes the textbook he’s been reading and stretches. Dustin takes that as an easy win.

Mark and Eduardo don’t seem to be paying attention. Mark’s stretched out on the couch, feet sticking off one end, leaving enough room for Wardo to sit at the other end and put up, all gentleman-like, with having his shoulder used as Mark’s headrest while Mark works on his laptop. Wardo is idly watching TV, not looking too interested, but not looking like he desperately wants to go out and party or anything either.

“Mark, Mark, come on, let’s go and get drunk,” Dustin wheedles. He goes straight for convincing Mark, even though most people would think Eduardo was a much easier target. Dustin knows better--Eduardo is both too easy and too hard. Easy, because as soon as Dustin wins Mark over, he knows Wardo will tag along too. Hard, because if he can’t win Mark over, there’s no way Wardo’s going anywhere.

Mark twitches in irritation but Eduardo has turned his head away from the TV, looking at him, well, probably kind of hopefully. Wardo’s always been more into actual socializing than he has. It’s one of those weird quirks that Mark is generous enough to put up with.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But only if you can find somewhere where the drinks are free.”

Dustin beams. “There’s a party over at Straus that should be good.”

So they trudge over to Straus in the cold and Mark is looking forward to the warmth of being drunk because fuck, it’s cold outside. He’s still wearing his shorts and flip flops, and he’ll be damned if he gives in to a little chill, but it still pisses him off to be abused by the weather like this. 

Eduardo gives him a knowing eye-crinkle of a smile because the bottom of his face is covered by a warm, fluffy scarf. Mark is about to give him his best glare when Eduardo darts his hand out of his pocket, where it was keeping warm and cozy, and gently skritches his nail right over the lifeline on Mark’s palm. Mark startles, and Eduardo seizes the chance to stick both of their hands back in his pocket. He hums contentedly. Mark’s numb fingers come back to life, tingling, and he can feel Eduardo’s thumb running over the back of his hand all the way to Straus.

It doesn’t seem so cold after all.

 

3\. 

After the settlement, Wardo apparently decides that 600 million dollars and a 5% stake in Mark’s life aren’t enough (he’s right--he should have taken 100%) of a rift, and he runs away to Singapore, putting an ocean between the two of them too. 

Mark is incredibly busy. Facebook grows and grows, and it takes his breath away to see her adding millions of users on practically a daily basis. There are apps to be vetted and layout re-designs to be coded and interviews to be tolerated and privacy issues to be dealt with. And if it maybe also takes his breath away whenever he spots the empty chair at the shareholder meetings, well, that’s just because he’s irritated that Wardo clearly hasn’t learned anything about separating emotions from business, or else he’d be here, taking care of his investment. (Of course, if having Wardo come back meant that he had learned to ignore or delete his feelings for Mark, that would be...well, maybe it’s better if Wardo just stays away.)

But then suddenly, with no hint from fate or life or whatever--some advanced notice might have been nice, just a little hint, a status update or something--Wardo’s back. He shows up at some charity gala for villages without water (hey, it’s not that Mark doesn’t care, but these things are just stupid ways for rich people to pat themselves on the back) and it’s been 2 years since Mark’s seen Eduardo, but he can spot him across the room, his suit close-fitting and form-flattering.

In his head, Mark can hear Chris grinding his teeth and Dustin flailing, but he still walks over to where Wardo is. Stops in front of him. Eduardo turns to look at him, something unreadable flashing across his face (someone else could probably read it--maybe the whole room is reading it now--but Mark was never good at that) before it settles into a neutral but attentive expression.

“Eduardo.”

“Mark.”

Eduardo gives him a polite smile, a shareholder smile, and holds out his hand. Mark stares at that smile for a second before taking the hand to shake it. One shake, up and down. Perfunctory. Brief. The handshake of a 5% shareholder. Eduardo goes to withdraw his hand, seeming ready to move on now that the niceties have been observed and they’ve robbed the room of anything exciting to gossip about.

Mark’s hand clenches, refusing to let go. He looks down at it in surprise, and thinks about hands in pockets and about how this is what he and Wardo are now. Or maybe what they’ve always been. Lifelines that intersect but which in the end always, always diverge. 

“Can we talk?” He asks. He’s still holding Eduardo’s hand.

Wardo looks at him. A second ago, he seemed embarrassed and somewhat alarmed by their prolonged handshake. But now his full attention is on Mark, and he doesn’t seem to give a shit about the people craning their necks to look at them, at the hands still hanging, connected, between the two of them.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, quietly.

 

4\. 

The important part is that Mark apologizes, and so does Wardo. The important part is that they realize that they’ve both grown up, that they were both young and overwhelmed, that they made mistakes and that they do believe in second chances. That is what they talk about. That is the important part. Talking. Because they are adults now.

But it’s hard to remember the important part when Wardo is shuddering above him, eyes wide and dark and open. It’s hard to think about anything except the way Wardo gasps _markmarkmark_ into his skin and Mark whispers back _loveyouloveyousorrysorrysorrywardo_ , reaching down with one hand to jerk himself off frantically to the time of Wardo’s thrusts. His other hand flings out, scrabbling for something to hold on to, and Wardo grabs it, lacing his fingers between Mark’s.  
 _Yes_ , Mark thinks. It’s finally right. So many years of coming together but not hearing each other. So many years of almost almost so many years of intersecting and diverging but now _wardowardowardo_ their hands face the same way, pressed together, lifelines running parallel, running on top of each other, aligned the way they should be. 

 

5.

Dustin’s laughing in the background and Mark knows he’s catching this on film--Mark dancing, honestly how is that not hilarious?--and he and Wardo are swaying gently and the band is playing some trite song that would normally make Mark roll his eyes or grimace. 

But it is his goddamn wedding and _fuck_ , Wardo _married_ him and honestly, yea, that kinda makes Mark feel like dancing is not such a bad idea. Because Wardo is closer than he’s ever been before, their right hands joined like they should be and Wardo’s other hand on Mark’s waist. Mark could swear that he feels the ring on his hip through the suit that his mother forced him to stand through two hours of fittings for.

And Wardo is warm breath in Mark’s ear and a soft gaze on Mark’s face, murmuring, “you know, the reason we wear rings on our left hands is because people used to believe that there was a life vein running through the ring finger that goes straight to the heart.”

Mark doesn’t say anything, and Wardo adds, “of course, it’s not true, but you know, I...” He pulls back for a second so that he can look Mark in the eye and smile shyly--why is he shy, he should know by now that he doesn’t ever need to be shy around Mark holy crap they are _married_ this is the best day _ever_ \--and he takes Mark’s hand off his shoulder and rubs his fingers over Mark’s ring, clinking it against his own. “I like to pretend it’s true. That there’s this piece of me sitting on a line that leads straight to your heart.”

Mark chokes a little, eyes feeling kind of prickly. “It’s true, Wardo. You know it’s true.”

Wardo beams and leans in to kiss him, fingers tangling, and there are catcalls in the background, and Mark thinks, _You have my life wrapped around you._

**Author's Note:**

> Also unbeta'ed but if anyone wants to volunteer I'd love to revise; I'm just too chicken to have my RL fic friends see this :/
> 
> Also, this is clearly a canon divergence of some kind, or perhaps a full out AU. I tried and tried my hardest to think of ways to introduce and justify Erica and/or the beginnings of Facebook, but in the end I've just had to hope that you'll accept that maybe Facebook was meant to be a part of Mark's life, even if we're talking about a Mark formed by somewhat different experiences.


End file.
